I don’t know how it is with other writers but it takes me until Chapter 3 to really get into the story I’m writing. It isn’t because I don’t know what I’m doing. Okay, sometimes I don’t know what I’m doing. It’s because it takes me that long to surrender to the inevitable.

Unlike most writers, I’m not a god in the universe of my mind. Silly me for thinking I’d actually have control over something in my life.

My characters don’t do what I want them to.

My characters possess me and I write what they tell me to or they don’t talk to me. I see through their mind, hear their thoughts and feel what they feel. All of which brings the story alive, gives it depth and draws in the readers.

But it also sucks for me, the writer.

I find my speech effect by the character currently simmering in the back of my head. My vocabulary changes and so does my attitude. When I was writing Redaction, Trent made me quick to take offense and resentful. David filled my head with swear words.

Now, I’ve moved on to a comedic Valentine’s romance, I hear myself saying gods (plural) and using for the love of Charles Dickens (it’s a sequel to The Christmas Village).

I’m not complaining. I’m very grateful that the story fairy sends me such strong figments of my imagination. It just means my serial killer persona (quiet, keeps to herself, loner) gets a boost. Good thing I’m an introvert:-)